


Pennys funeral / Arthurs point of view

by ArthurFlecksGirl



Category: Joker (2019)
Genre: Angst, Darkness, Death, F/M, Funeral, Mental Illness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-12
Updated: 2020-05-12
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:08:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24144121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArthurFlecksGirl/pseuds/ArthurFlecksGirl
Summary: My version of the deleted scene at Pennys funeral
Relationships: Arthur Fleck/You
Kudos: 7





	Pennys funeral / Arthurs point of view

Amazing tradition.They throw a great party for you on the day they know you can`t come.  
I dressed up, Ma. My clothes look decent, just like I was going on a big date. But I guess you wouldnt notice. You never did. Maybe you would ask me about why I am wearing cologne. But you wouldnt ask twice if I´d told you. Because you never do.  
I hide the diary under my red coat, to avoid getting it wet. Its raining. I had to carry my journaly with me. Because I`m sure I will think of some jokes while I watch the rain pouring down on your coffin.  
I focus on the shape of the hole in the ground. That small space.  
Mum, I imagin you standing in front of MY grave. The hole they made for me is a small circle. And the coffin is a weird shaped quarter, a small coffin for a small clown. And peole would say "He never fit in. Thsís is how he wanted to be remembered".  
I chuckle and people look at me like I`m out of my mind. There are just a few there. She didnt had any friends because she never let the house. I dont even know who those 4 people are. I guess they knew her from long ago when I was a kid and heard about her death. I`m not even asking who they are. Because I don`t care. And they won`t come up to me and talk to me. I can hear them whisper "Thats her son Arthur. He`s a bit of a lunatic. He was a messed up kid".  
I try to pretend I heaven`t heard.  
Yeah, I uess getting abused by your mums boyfriend could mess with your brain. Especially when you are only three years old, getting tied to a radiator. I don`t remember it and yet flashbacks when I was a few years older start to cross my mind since I read the papers. Fragements like hearing his steps and voice. Feeling his breath against my skin. A sharp pain inside of my small body as he hurt me. Me trying to scream while he was covering my mouth with tape so tight, my lips formed a smile. "Don`t you dare to cry! Smile for me, my boy"  
My boy. Its the same name Randall calles me. It always triggers me when he says that. Randall`s just as huge as my abuser was. Standing beside him makes me feel powerless.   
My boy. My boy.  
The priest is talking but I don`t pay attention to his words. He didnt knew Penny. So whats the point ? Maybe he knows about the fact that she allowed her son getting abused. It was all over the newspapers back than. But would he remember the names? Would he know that the cruel mother who didnt do anything to save her son was lying in this coffin?   
All my life I was convinced thet my mum was the only one who cared about me. But she didnt. She just watched me falling apart more and more every day. Every time she was being rude, telling me I`m not funny, I though she just doesnt get my humor but the truth is she just wanted to hurt me.  
Everyone wants to hurt me.  
There is no music playing.  
Don`t you worry, mum. I brought music. Its playing in my head and let me tell you it sounds beautiful. Especially when ou listen to it while watching the rain fall on the top of your coffin. The raindrops making sounds on the woody surface. Knock knock. Hunderets of quiet Knock knocks.

Knock knock  
Mum, its me  
Its my tears falling upon your heart made out of stone.

The tears of your seven year old son, trying to learn some magic tricks in the middle of the night. Unable to close an eye, knowing that the man you call your boyfriend will walk through my doorframe soon. Fixing my tiney wrists with tape, throwing me on the bed, hurting me in a way you couldnt even imagin.  
"No more magic tricks". I can hear his voice, so full of hate. "One more magic trick and I will never take this tape off of your wrists. Or maybe learn a REAL magic trick and try to get free".  
I actually tried.  
I closed my eyes as soon as he left the room and wished for the tape to disappear. But it never did. Thats when I realized I would never be a true magician. Only a clown.  
I shake my head, trying to concenrate on your coffin, pressing my journal close to my chest before I take it out. The rain isnt as bad anymore and I still have my red umbrella with me, so the pages are save from getting drenched. I pull my pen out of my pocket and start to write:  
"Speaking badly of the dead is a grave mistake"  
I smile at the page, drawing a little boy tied to a coffin beneath it. His hands are fixed with tape.  
I black it out. No I can do better. Its difficult to draw this way. I put the umbrella on the ground.  
"Why is there always a wall around every graveyard? ----- Because people are dying to get in there!"  
I chuckle. Thats a good one. Mother wouldnt get it, but its a good one.  
I look up for a second and the priest is staring at me.  
"What?" I ask him. No answer. Of course not.  
I focus on my diary. I need something in there to remember this special day.  
Um...   
Damn, the priest really managed to kill my inspiration.  
Suddenly the two woman are standing right beside me. It makes me feel uncomfortable. I want them to go away.  
They ignore me, talking to each other.  
"I dont know about the coffin" says the older one "I guess I want them to burn my body when my time has come"  
The other one disagrees "Oh no. I can`t imagin that"  
I look at them "I like coffins. I like being in small spaces. Its comforting."  
I`m thinking about the white rooms and the fridge, but they dont know of course.  
They just give me a really dirty look.  
"But on the other hand..." I giggle "Cremation is my last hope for a smoking hot body". I can`t even hold myself back. I laugh so hard. Its a kinda laugh I have never really experienced. Its not the one that hurts and chokes me. But it doesnt feel good eighter. I don`t feel anything right now. The numbness is running through my insides, just like the feeling of getting numb from staying in the cold fridge for too long. I can barely feel my limbs anymore. Its all unreal.  
Maybe its just another hallucination. I can never be sure.  
Maybe I`m the one lying in that box.  
Knock knock  
Who`s there?  
Sorry, I cant answer, I practice mime.

The two woman walk away from me, taking their distance. Its better this way.  
Oh Penny, now that you`re dead I´ve got nothing left to lose.  
I was always alone but this way the final step of being ALL alone. There will be no one at home anymore. Just me and the voices in my head, the music. The shadows coming to me at night. The orange cat. Just me and my thoughts.  
Its final.

I`m glad you`re dead.  
You can`t spell FUNeral without fun right?  
I guess my funeral will be a lot of fun.  
And it will be take place soon.  
Sorry Ma, but its already planned out.  
I`ve got a big plan for Tuesday.   
i`mma be live at the Murray Franklin show and guess what?  
I have a big Joke to tell  
The punchline will be me pulling the trigger live on tv.  
You never thotught I`m going to be on tv but I made it.  
Its my chance to make it as big as possible.  
And everyone would love a dead, sad clown.You can`t deny that.  
There will be applouse.  
Do you think Murray will come to my funeral?  
I dont think so but I like the thought of it.  
Maybe there will be no one.  
Maybe I´ll be alone, just like I was when I was still alive.  
But I will be FREE.  
We both are now.

Maybe I´m gonna celebrate later at home.  
I will put my make up on and play some Frank Sinatra.  
Doesnt it sound like fun?  
The wind is blowing though my hair ,  
while I watch the rain washing away all your lies.


End file.
